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I pull on Rafa’s hand, dragging him alongside me to the wrap-around porch overlooking the lush green trees and a colourful mountainside striated with clay.
I run my hands up his arms, shoulders, and to his neck, staring into the warm depths of his brown eyes, even as they threaten to break me from the worry etched into the edges.
“Why are we here?” he asks, his voice so small it forcibly pierces through my heart.
“Because,mon amour, I needed you to see this. I needed you to see that what these people do every day isn’t just to protect their livelihood, but it’s to keep the people who come here safe.”
His dark brows pinch further together, and I can’t stand the sight of it. I run my thumb over the skin, smoothing it out as I take a deep breath and prepare myself for what I’m about to say.
“What happened to Carlos wasn’t just an accident, it was atragedy.But it was neveryourfault. That’s not your burden to bear, Rafa.”
His tense shoulders start to loosen, so I trudge on, hoping like hell I say the right things and don’t fuck this up.
“Do you see everything Santiago and his family do each day to maintain their equipment, to make sure this activity they love and the business they’ve built remain safe for anyone who wants to come and enjoy it?”
He nods, but the movement is jerky and doesn’t settle the swarm of bees still stinging away inside me.
“I need you to hear me when I say this, and then I need you to repeat it back to me. Say these words ‘What happened to Carlos was not my fault.’”
His head rears back, and the muscles in his neck tighten. I feel his strong pulse beneath my fingertips as it speeds up.
“No, Elise. This isn’t going to work.” He grunts, looking anywhere but at me.
Time to try a new approach.
“If we get on that zipline and something happens to you today, would you blame me for it?”
His eyes widen with shock, as if the very idea of the words I’ve just spoken is so ridiculous he can’t even believe I asked them. “What the hell? No, of course not. How would that be your fault?”
“Well, I brought you here,” I answer.
“That doesn’t matter, Elise. That guy just told us about a million reasons why that thing is saf—” And then the word dies on his tongue, as do the bees in my gut, each one having lost their stinger in the fight to be free before finding their demise as I watch understanding spread across his features. “It-it wasn’t my fault,” he whispers, and his eyes fill with tears that never fall.
I reach up on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck, and squeeze him against my chest. “What happened wasn’t your fault,” I whisper, reassuring him.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he chokes out. We continue just like this until he no longer feels the need to say it, until his trembling limbs have settled and the wet tears he’s left on my shoulder have dried up.
When I loosen my hold on him, he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against mine.
“Thank you,mi vida.”
I don’t bother answering in words because the gift he thinks I’ve just given him is truly nothing compared to the relief he’s given me. Knowing that he’s been carrying that guilt around for the last fifteen years has weighed on me in a way I hadn’t even realised until this moment.
The boulder I’ve unknowingly been holstering has lifted, and I can feel my chest expanding with every full breath I’m able to take.
Santiago opens the door, sticking his head out. He hollers over to us, “You both ready to get started?”
“Yeah, thank you,” Rafael answers without a moment of hesitation, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose before pulling me inside.
Santiago helps us into the equipment, explaining how we should feel once everything is secured, making adjustments aswe go, and once ready, I stagger outside, my knees wobbling with each step.
My palms are sweating as we near the platform, this time harnessed and clipped in, except that now I don’t have the distraction of Rafael’s anxieties to keep my mind off of the distance between solid ground and my feet.
Rafael slings an arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple before tickling under my arm. “Stop it!” I screech, swatting at his hand, my eyes wide. “I’m not about to fall off of this thing because you thought tickling me was a good idea, you idiot!”
The colour has officially returned to his face as he tries to suppress his laughter. “Okay, okay,” he says. “You know, we really don’t have to do this.” My eyes cut to his, narrowing. He puts his hands up in surrender. “I’ve already got your message, okay? We don’t have to do it if you’re afraid,” he amends.
I put on my version of a brave face, lifting my chin as I say, “I made you face your fears today, now I’m going to face mine.”